Eric Erikson and the Curse of Deveraux
by N.I London
Summary: The American equal of Hogwarts. The students of Carrington Academy create a club similar to Dumbledore's Army to support Harry Potter. They discover a Death Eater's secret, align themselves with Hogwarts, and try to stop the Dark Lord from regaining power
1. The First Meeting

Stephanie Philpot walked into the large audience hall of Carrington School of Magic, inhaling and exhaling deeply. She had a mighty task in front of her – convincing her fellow classmates that they must align themselves with the English school Hogwarts and its most famous student, Harry Potter. The school, the government, and their parents all thought that this kid was delusional. He, the savior of the magical world, witnessed the rising of the Dark Lord, but no one else has seen him since that fantastic story surfaced. She, however, thought that he was the key to a safe future for her kind.

Of course, people's negative opinions of Harry Potter took time to form. In the beginning, people revered him, because he, the only one ever, survived the killing curse. He carried a faint lightening bolt scar on his forehead from that fateful night when the boy's parents died and Lord Voldemort, the most powerful wizard disappeared. Some say he died that night, others contend that he's still alive, clinging to existence. There has been no trace of him for over fourteen years. Why should anyone believe a young boy, clutching the lifeless body of his schoolmate who died mysteriously, claiming that he met the Dark Lord. Where was the proof? His naysayers gossip about him and heckle him in the newspapers. Some say that the killing curse addled his brain, causing him to fall into fits of despair. And that night, he forgot to take his mood-stabilizing potion.

Stephanie never experienced the distance that many of her American compatriots felt from their European wizarding brethren. Her mother, a proud Englishwoman from London, travelled throughout her younger years across Europe and the Middle East before marrying an American and settling outside of Washington D.C. Her mother's sister remained in London and had one daughter, Stephanie's favorite cousin, Angelina Johnson. Angelina regularly corresponded with her with updates about her boyfriends, crushes, and the latest gossip. The news nowadays focused on the potentially dangerous situation that the British Ministry of Magic was putting Hogwarts' students in. And she didn't think twice about what may happen in America if it gets out of hand there. It happened once.

Stephanie gripped the letter that she recently received from Angelina. It was warning:

_Steph,_

_Be careful. Learn as much magic as you can. The Dark Lord has risen and Death Eaters are returning. Don't listen to people who say that this isn't true. They're being naïve. Harry Potter saw him rise._

_AJ_

Her warning was plenty enough.

**

"I don't think this is a good idea, Stephanie," Erik said timidly.

"Of course this is a good idea!" Stephanie replied. She patted him on the back. "We're going to kick Death Eaters' asses."

"That's not what I meant," he said agitated. His palms started to sweat. "I don't want to lead the meeting."

David interrupted. He was a tall, stocky, and built like a linebacker. "Erik sucks at public speaking. You should let me lead."

"I'm not convincing enough. David is much better."

"NO!" Stephanie cried. David's face soured. "Erik, you're going to lead. I've prepared you. By the way, is Harris coming?"

A lump formed in the back of Erik's throat. He never wanted to be a part of this group, but because she cornered him after class, there was nothing he could say to get out of it. Her reasons for the need of this group several weeks ago seemed good enough at the time, but with each _Eagle Post, _Harry Potter's claims became more and more ridiculous – the Dark Lord planned to overtake the British Ministry of Magic and to murder everyone Harry loved. Why did he believe this? Because the boy forgot to take his potions regularly to control his moods, he had nightmares that kept him from sleeping, and he became suddenly morose because his friend played with his heart. Erik couldn't believe that he was about to give a speech defending this kid.

As he approached the podium, he patted himself to make sure that he had his wand. He's lost it several times before and he vowed he'd never lose it again. Stephanie, David, and the rest of the leaders took their seats behind the podium. Students still stood about talking and laughing, paying no attention to the jittery Erik leaning nervously over the lectern. "Let's call this meeting to a start," he announced. Several sat down, but others peered over the shoulders, then returned to their conversations. His eyes scanned the crowd of about twenty students, but he couldn't find Harris, his roommate and best friend. He invited him this morning over breakfast while Stephanie was preoccupied with flirting with some sixth year. Erik's bleach blond hair fell into his face, but he swept it away revealing his cerulean blue eyes and crooked nose. "Please take your seats and be quiet!" He shouted irritated.

An astonished crowd fell silent at once. Everyone sat on the hard wooden seats and faced Erik. He pulled out his note cards and tapped them with his wand revealing Stephanie's handwriting. "_Begin by welcoming everyone_," he murmured, reading from the card. "Hello, everyone." His shaky voice reverberated off the audience hall's stone walls and vaulted ceiling. "Welcome to this club that has yet to be named."

Stephanie stood smiling. "Actually, I decided on a name. We are the DreamCatcher Cadre." Then she sat down, apparently pleased with herself.

"We'll discuss the name."

"No, we won't."

Erik gritted his teeth before continuing to the next card. _"Tell them why we're here," _he read to himself. He'd have some trouble with this one.

Someone coughed.

"Okay, let's see," he said trying to find a good segue into this topic

Another cough. "Alright... So we have all been affected by a death eater."

The audience shuffled impatiently.

"Raise your hand if something has happened to your family because of a Death Eater."

Erik looked out over the sea of faces, but none of them raised their hands; they only stared at each other waiting for the first person to make a move. He turned his heads for relief from his miserable efforts only to find four hands in the air and Stephanie winking at him and mouthing "Keep going".

"My father went missing nearly thirteen years ago trying to find the last of them: Paul Byson!"

Some let out groans and gasps at the infamous name.

"He's still out there, preying on your families and waiting for the Dark Lord to give him instructions."

"Are you telling me you believe that nonsense, Erik?" Jack declared, his pallid skin taut. Those dark eyes that gave him an enigmatic appeal pierced Erik's blue ones. Erik backed down. He felt Stephanie swoosh past him as she raced to the podium to defend her club.

"Jack, let's be reasonable based on the evidence..." she stated.

He didn't let her finish. "This is a Harry Potter fan club. I thought you were smarter than to listen to some delusional fool."

"He saved us from the Dark Lord."

"He's a nut!"

"People are disappearing. Strange things are happening."

A red head girl blurted out. "In England."

Jack agreed. "The Dark Lord is dead and _all_ of the Death Eaters are either in prison or dead."

"Harry Potter saw him rise!" Stephanie exclaimed.

"He was dreaming...and so are you if you think that the Dark Lord is back." Jack stood on the wooden bench where he sat earlier to speak to the rest of the group. "If any of you all are smart enough, you'd leave with me. There's no point in risking expulsion for these people. They're so gullible, they'll believe the sky is green and the grass is blue if _Harry Potter _said so." He jumped down and left along with the rest of the audience.

"Damn that Jack Miller," Stephanie muttered. But Erik saw the cogs in her head turning, so he knew that she wasn't defeated. She was only creating a new plan.

He slowly backed away while she was thinking, hoping to avoid getting caught up in another one of her schemes.

"Erik," she called when he placed his hand on the door handle. "We've got to stick together. And we need to be more clever when we call another meeting. We're already risking enough with this illegal meeting, but with the next one, it has to be quiet. I don't trust Jack Miller."

"Uh-huh," he muttered, still believing he could escape.

"Come here."

"What?"

"Come here."

Reluctantly, he walked over to where Stephanie stood with Lana, Marc, and David. "We need Harris to join," she said.

"Why?"

"Six is better than five."

"Isn't six an evil number?"

Lana rolled her eyes annoyed. "You don't understand the importance of such a group. We've got to defend ourselves."

"Against what?" Erik cried.

"Your father went missing because of Paul Byson, a Death Eater," Marc said easily, afraid that he was going to offend him.

"My father has nothing to do with this!" Erik shouted incensed, then turned to walk away.

Stephanie's voice called him, "Erik!"

He stopped but didn't reply.

"Harris and you are important. We need you."

**

Eric laid awake in his room with his recent nightmare and thoughts wracking his brain. His father, an auror, warned him to be constantly vigilant the last time he saw him alive. The details of his father's death were still scarce; the congressional-led attack on some unknown sect suspected to be loosely affiliated with Death Eaters seemed to go well in the beginning. They arrested several wannabes and closed in on the leader, Paul Byson, but Byson was aware of the attack. The easy raid rapidly turned into a war where the aurors had the lower hand and fought only for survival. The survivors lost all memory of the rest of the attack, but Byson and six of his followers set up camp on Canada's border. Eric's father may have died sometime later in the crossfire.

"Harris...Harris!" Eric whispered to one of eight roommates who bunked above him.

A sleepy Harris muttered something then rolled around. Eric pushed his feet up against the Harris' bed furiously.

"Stop," he repeated sleepily. "Please stop."

"I won't stop until you wake up. I got to talk."

Groans sounded from above him, and the bed creaked as Harris arose and climbed down to Eric's bed. Eyes barely open, he sat down on the side of the bed. The light blue flannel pajamas hung loosely off his frame and his thick dark hair was matted on the left side. "What do you want?"

"I had a nightmare."

"I'm not your mother, so..."

"Please, listen." Harris grumbled a bit, but listened. "I had a nightmare about my father...and Harry Potter was in it."

"Why don't you go to the girl's dormitory? I'm sure Stephanie will be excited to hear about this. She's in love with the Brits."

One of the other roommates groaned.

"Are you going to listen or not?"

"Say whatever you're going to say or I'm going to sleep."

"Harry Potter invited my dad to a pub in England to get a special assignment – to kill Paul Byson. So my dad takes his men to the Adirondacks and chases Byson. He catches Byson by the neck right, then starts choking him and Byson's flailing about pleading and crying. My dad lets him go, but Byson curses him then I woke up as Byson performs the killing curse."

"Amazing story, Erik," Harris said sarcastically. "Next time you wake me up to tell me one of your stupid dreams, do me a favor and don't." He climbed up the ladder to return to his bed.

"You're lucky that the government hid your family," Erik said scathingly. He heard Harris reposition himself in his bed, then seconds later, snore loudly. Erik knew that Harris heard each one of those whispered words. He only pretended to be asleep.

**

Stephanie dressed quickly in her school uniform, blue and orange plaid skirt, socks pulled up to her knees, and clean white blouse. She stuffed her cerulean blue cloak in her bag and raced out of her dormitory without a word to the rest of her roommates. Her mind was preoccupied – she needed to see Erik. He lived in the same house she did, but he usually left for breakfast early, not dawdling in the common room like everyone else. She took advantage of this, and caught him as he opened the heavy wooden doors to depart.

"Can I have a word with you, Erik?" she asked.

"I'm not coming back," he responded perturbed. His eyes darted from her face to her bag, then to the floor.

"Yesterday didn't go well. But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. I need your help with Defense against the Dark Arts. Remember I was sick the other day and I never learned about the new creatures. So I couldn't do my homework."

"Don't you have someone else you can ask?"

"You're the best in the class." She tugged on his tie to straighten it. _"Scourigfy!"_ With a flick of the wand, a tiny grease stain disappeared from his lapel. "I hate to see Prof. Allen give you another detention for not being neat." She smiled coquettishly.

"Fine. Meet me in the basement in room one at 8:30." He walked out and slammed the door in her face.

"Good morning, Stephanie," the bewitched mirror on her left greeted her. It was a full length mirror that spoke to those who examined their appearance in it. "You look nice today. But I suggest that you don't wear your hair braided. Try something new. Brush it and wear it down."

She inspected one of her two long black french braids. Her hair was more manageable braided, because if not, it was a thick bushy mess. "I think the braids will do. But thank you."

Another girl twirled behind Stephanie trying to see herself fully, but Stephanie kept blocking her reflection. "Can you wait?" she asked impatiently. "I'm not finished."

"You've been there for the past five minutes," the girl replied indignantly. Her cheeks flushed with anger to the same color as her bright red hair.

"I see that you need it, Monica," she retorted nastily. She began to fix her make-up on her mahogany skin.

_"Riculosus!" _

Before Stephanie had the chance to react, a tingling sensation hit the back of her head and spread to her face. She looked like a clown.

"If you don't want to go to class with two black eyes and a bloody nose, Monica, you better perform the counter curse." Stephanie's voice steadily rose as she spoke.

"No, and even if I did, I wouldn't do it." Monica remained defiant, angering Stephanie even more. Her crowd formed around the two fifth years, some cheering on Stephanie and the others cheering Monica.

Stephanie growled then pounced on her. She swung her hand but missed Monica's face, which gave Monica the chance to push her over and pin her to the ground. "Try to hit me now!" Monica howled with laughter. Stephanie grunted as she tried to break free of Monica's grasp. Although Monica and she had the same petite frame, Monica was more athletic and used all of her strength to keep her down.

"Ladies! Get off each other," an older brunette witch rushed into the common room screeching and breaking up the crowd. Her witch's hat slid off her head as she bent down to pull Monica off Stephanie. Stephanie crawled from underneath her, gasping for air.

"She started it, Prof. Donaldson!" Stephanie cried, her clown makeup smeared and tears streaming down her face.

"I did not, you conceited idiot," Monica retorted.

"I don't want to hear it," shrieked Prof. Donaldson. She straightened her hat and readjusted her robes. "You both have a week's worth of detention plus a write-up. I'll be sure to alert the Headmaster about your very unladylike behavior. It's an embarrassment to the Phoenix house. As for everyone else, get to breakfast." Stephanie stood woodenly as Prof. Donaldson glared at her. "You cannot go to class looking like that. Take the time to clean your face off and redo your hair. I want a clean face – no makeup."

Stephanie wanted to protest, but she knew it was unwise. She nodded, then turned to race back to her room. As she changed her blouse, she noticed that something was missing, her favorite necklace. This necklace was her mother's family symbol - a triangle inside a circle. It was her proof that she was a full-fledged witch even though she was a half-blood and that both of her parents were half-bloods. However, she feared that because her brother was a squib, her magic wasn't powerful as everyone else. She felt her neck, her clothing, and her hair. Nothing. She must have lost it during the fight.

The common room was empty now when she came back. She frantically searched the floor, under the cushions of the chairs, and under the table for her prized golden necklace. "Dammit!"

"Missing something?" the mirror asked suddenly, surprising her. "I suppose it's your necklace."

"Where did I drop it?"

"It's in your bag. You never put it on this morning. Such a rush...only to be late."

"I've got to go, mirror." Stephanie poured out all of the contents of her bag. Books, parchment, quills, and ink spilled out. A golden chain with the emblem flew out.

"Clean yourself up before you leave," the mirror spoke.

She threw her belongings back in the bag and raced off.

***

"Why did I tell her I'd help her?" Erik muttered to himself before taking another look at his watch. Fifteen minutes before nine.

"I told you not to," Harris remarked. "She's a little crazy. Compulsive. I don't trust her."

Erik ignored him. "She hates to be behind in class. I was sure she'd come."

"Like I said. She wants to trap you into joining her stupid little club. I'm never coming to a meeting. I don't even consider her an acquittance."

"She's not that bad."

The door flew open and an exhausted Stephanie plowed in.

"Good God!" Erik exclaimed.

Harris burst out laughing. "What's the matter, Stephanie? Did the mirror lie again and tell you that you looked beautiful?"

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. She'd only change clothes and wash her face before realizing that her necklace was missing after the fight. Her always neat braids were coming undone and her hastily put on uniform looked ill-fitted for her body shape. Even her brilliant hazel eyes appeared dull in the light from the candelabra hanging from the ceiling. "Apparently we learned three new creatures: a red cap, a grindylow, and the Brazilian fire toad," she said as she pulled out a length of parchment, quills, and ink. "I'm just going to jot some of the properties down and turn it in."

"I'm not giving you the answers for your homework, Steph," Erik replied stone-faced. "You've wasted my time and now it's almost time for class." He slammed a book closed and shoved it in his canvas bag.

She sighed, defeated. "I'm not going to argue with you. I'm sorry that I was late. I don't want to talk about it, but I'm sure you'll here about it." She collected her items, then walked out.

"I didn't expect that," Erik commented.

Harris shrugged. "She's strange. Come on. Let's get to class."


	2. Class time

Erik and Harris took their usual seats in History of Magic in the back, where they could doze off without being noticed by the teacher, Professor Smyth, a small, wiry witch who wore large rounded spectacles that made her eyes pop out of her head. She walked out of her study at the front of the room and pulled the heavy oak door shut. Thin strands of white hair fell out of her woolen, pointed hat. "Good morning class," she croaked. "We are now in the modern period of British history, which is defined by the department of education from 1600 to today. We'll cover in more depth muggle witch hunts, the exodus of wizard kind from Britain, Ireland, and Scotland, Goblin revolts..."

Erik's head began to bob up and down until Harris elbowed him.

"there are many parallels between American magical history and British magical history. I expect you all to take many good notes because ancient history is only a fifth of what is covered your exams this year. I will once again stress that these exams determine what your course of study will be for the remaining two years in addition to the careers you may pursue." She paused. "Mr. Erikson and Mr. O'Mara, I expect that you two pay greater attention now if you don't want to be vagabonds."

"Yes, Professor," they answered quietly and alertly.

"Pop question to see if anyone bothered to read," her toadlike voice rose. "Ms. Philpot, please tell the class about the New World Expedition Group and what the purpose of it was?"

Stephanie stammered as she tried to answer the question. She sat three rows in front of him and Erik could see her shifting nervously in her chair. "It was a group of European wizards and witches who...wanted to resettle in America."

The professor eyed her. "You put together an answer from the name of the group. Obviously you didn't read. Mr. O'Mara, wipe the sleepiness out of your eyes and tell me the answer."

Harris had his textbook opened to the chapter on the New World Expedition Group and skimmed it as Stephanie gave her made-up answer. "The New World Expedition Group was a collection of wizards and witches who wanted to resettle in America to escape persecution from Muggles and constant fighting between goblins and other magical creatures."

"Mr. Romero, please add to this pitiful answer."

Marc, who sat next to Stephanie, delivered his answer with his usual timidity. "This group was made up of mostly British, Scottish, Dutch, French, and German wizards and witches including the infamous William Carrington who founded our school. Spanish and Portuguese wizard-kind successfully settled in the New World decades beforehand away from muggle influence and their communities thrived. The first meeting convened in 1597 to go over the specifics on founding a community, but many scoffed at the idea. Carrington and his British followers didn't go to America until 1625 and even then they didn't live apart from the Muggles. They actually settled in the Middle Plantation of Virginia."

"Thank you, Mr. Romero for your thorough answer. It pleases me that you paid attention in American history class, but this is British history and we focus on the British."

Marc turned around dumbfounded. Harris shook his head in support of him.

"Mrs. Smith must of drank bitter draught this morning with breakfast, because she's mean," Erik remarked angrily.

"At least you didn't have to answer her question," Harris replied.

Mrs. Smith dropped her vellum-bound notes on the lectern, which landed with an unexpected thud. "Quills should be scratching furiously on your parchment. Expect several feet of notes."

For once, Erik did not fall asleep.

After a ten minute break, Erik and Harris, fatigued from writing so much, arrived to their favorite class Defense against the Dark Arts. Not only did they use unique spells, learn about dangerous creatures, and duel each other, but their professor had a knack for storytelling. Professor Eisenberg, a former Auror, diplomat, and codebreaker, travelled around the world for many years investigating, fighting, and enjoying the hospitality of foreigners. Retiring from public service after barely escaping from Lord Voldemort, he decided that telling his stories of fantastic stories of danger and intrigue to impressionable students would satisfy his lust for adventure.

They walked into the classroom expecting to see a stout, muscular German with a handsome face and friendly blue eyes; instead they met a short, blond man sorting a mess of papers on the desk. He didn't even raise his head to see the confused students watching him with interest. Only when the bell did he even notice his surroundings. "Class has started. Sit!" he grunted. He took his wand, flicked it, and the door slammed shut and locked. No one dared speak. "I understand that this class is made up of Phoenix and the Ekundayo houses. I used to be a member of the Phoenix house when I studied here at Carrington. We were haughty, boorish, and stubborn. I doubt much has changed."

"Who are you?" a Ekundayo boy asked.

"I didn't ask for questions," the professor responded gruffly. He scratched his unshaven face. "You must be an Ekundayo: nosy, loud, quarrelsome. Don't ask questions. Listen. It'll be hard for each and every one of you. Phoenixes and Ekundayos are known for not listening. Being successful at defending yourselves against dark sorcerers requires silence. Thinking."

As the professor spoke, Erik slipped Harris a note.

_He looks familiar. I don't trust him._

Harris scratched something down on the thin parchment and returned it.

_I've seen him in an old _Eagle Post. _He's a former Death Eater. Can't remember his name._

The man walked around his classroom, glancing at each student and each student stared at him curiously. Erik hid the note, just as he walked past him. "My name is Professor Dirk Dawlings. A '77 graduate of Carrington Academy, '85 graduate of the International Institute of Magic in Paris. I fought the remaining Death Eaters after the fall of the Dark Lord with the National Security Group, then I helped the Brazilian magical government set up their intelligence center in Sao Paolo, and just last year, I investigated the Deveraux Scandal for the International Confederation of Wizardry. I am very well travelled and educated on all things dark being that I'm so young. I know lots of magic having learned from the best including Professor Albus Dumbledore of Hogwarts School and President of the Magical Congress, Mr. Richard Adler. I do not wish to scare you, but I even learned some magic from the Dark Lord himself.

Several students gasped.

"Do not be scared. I am one of the best people in the world to teach this class just like Professor Eisenberg. Not even Hogwarts or Salem Institute can boost that they have such great teachers like us to teach a defense class." He chuckled to himself. "By the way, Professor Eisenberg is gone on a special assignment for the Congress. He has been requesting something like this for a while now. I guess teaching has bored him – he's always been fond of adventure, even in his old age. So I will be teaching you everything I know. The format of the class will change. If you did your homework, good for you. I'm not concerned about the magical properties of creatures. That is something for your Care of Creatures class. Fifth years need to learn about fighting and defending against despots.

"Wands will always be on your desks within an inch of your hand. Parchment, ink, and quill will always be needed as you will be writing often. Scribble as quickly as possible all curses and all known counter curses. Your answers will be weighed against your classmates and houses. Phoenixes make me proud!" He shook his fist. "Begin!"

"How many did you get to write down?" Harris asked Erik.

"I don't know, like ten curses and seven counter curses," Erik replied.

"I got thirteen curses and eight counter curses." Harris smiled a bit.

Erik shrugged. "I'm unsure about how he's going to grade. How many would be for an A?"

Two fourth years muttered something about the curious new professor. "He knows about the Deveraux Scandal," one said.

"What do you think of him?" Harris asked.

Erik thought about him. His peculiar nature, his short stature but intimidating manners. With a sudden revelation, Erik cried, "Dawlings! He's a Death Eater. He worked with Paul Byson. That bastard killed my father." His muscles tightened and his thin mouth became taut with anger. "I'm going to kill him." He drew his wand and raced down the hallway toward the classroom.

Harris chased after him. "Let's think about this, Erik." He pinned Erik against the wall.

He panted heavily, "He killed my dad. I've got to take my revenge."

"You're not making sense."

"Let me go," Erik hollered.

Harris released him. "Listen to me. Accusing Prof. Dawlings of killing your father isn't the best idea. You've got to be smart about this. We've got to check him out."

"Where's Prof. Eisenberg? Why is that man here?"

"Hey guys," Stephanie interrupted. She stopped speaking when she saw Erik's sweaty face and tense eyes. "What's wrong, Erik? Why are you sweating so much?"

Harris glared, "Why do you care Stephanie?"

"I'm concerned about my friends." Her face beamed. "Plus I got some great news that'll cheer Erik up anyway."

She waited for a gasp of anticipation that never came. The boys only looked at her.

Her excitement wasn't diminished though. "My mother just sent an eagle telling me that I'm going to London for the holidays! Well, not exactly London, but to my Aunt's house in Ottery St. Catchpole."

"Why would that cheer me up?" Erik asked perturbed. His white blond hair fell over his eyes. He combed it back with his fingers.

Stephanie played with one of her french braids that were now neatly hanging down her back. "I get to invite anybody that I want. So I'm inviting the both of you, Lana, David, and Marc with me to meet my cousin. I think that we'll be able to come up with better ways to fight dark forces."

"I'm not apart of this club," Harris stated. "I won't ever be apart of this stupid club."

Her smile did not waver. "Erik, please tell your mother and step-father that we'll be leaving by magic carpet on December 27th. If you want to, I'll have my mother contact yours."

Erik stuttered.

"Sounds like a plan. By the way, I'll see you tonight in the charms classroom at seven. We're having an officer's meeting."

"Uh," he barely uttered.

She skipped off excitedly.

"Why do you let her control you, man?" Harris shook his head. "I swear she's cursed you. Maybe you can ask Prof. Dawlings about a counter curse."

Erik grumbled then stomped off.

"Erik!" Harris called after him. "Erik!"

But he just kept walking until he got to the next class, Professor Donaldson's potions class.

He sat this time in the front next to a student in the Hino house. He recognized the redhead girl from the first meeting. He couldn't remember her name, but knew her by her thick, long hair, attractive green eyes, and slender, long fingers. He had an urge to touch them and hold them in his hands. But he resisted his desire and scooted his chair away from hers.

"Did you see the fight between Stephanie and Monica this morning?" she asked.

"I didn't," he responded shyly. "What happened?"

"I don't know. I just heard that Monica kicked Stephanie's ass."

"Ms. Edwards, I don't want to hear that kind of language in my classroom," Prof. Donaldson sternly warned. "Next time, it'll be a detention."

The last of the students filed in and took their seats quickly. The classroom settled down. "I have some warnings for you," she announced, placing her chubby hands on her rotund hips hidden under her frumpy robe. "First announcement is only for the Phoenix house. If there is ever any physical altercations in my house, the fighters will be automatically suspended for a month. Why is your hand up Mr. Warrenton?"

"I have a question," David said. "What about dueling?"

"Physical altercations are different from dueling. At least you are practicing what you are learning. Those concerns will handled on a case by case basis. But physically fighting will not tolerated. Next announcement is for everyone. The department of education headed by the Honorable Brutus Brown decided in light of the events happening internationally that all magical schools must be under tighter control. Therefore, all meetings of more than two students must be registered by the school and approved by the department. As of today, there are twelve student groups recognized including the Dueling Club, Quidditch teams, and Longball. The complete list is in the dining hall." She flicked her wand and all of the curtains drew on all of the rose-colored Gothic windows. The only light came from the candelabra and the candles on the long wooden tables. "I have already sent my letter of contempt to the Mr. Brown and I suggest that you all too." She flicked her wand again toward the chalkboard. On it, instructions for Intelligensia Potion. "What exactly is this potion?"

Prof. Donaldson pointed to someone and a familiar voice responded, "This potion sharpens the wit of anyone who drinks it, but if it's made incorrectly then the drinker loses his humor."

"Correct, Ms. Philpot," Prof. Donaldson said. "Five points to the Phoenix house. That should make up for the one hundred lost from this morning. Please take out your cauldron and gather your ingredients from the store room."

Commotion rose as students rushed to the little room on the left, gathering what they need. Erik avoided both the overly enthusiastic Stephanie and the melancholy Harris. He took the supplies he needed and returned to his seat. He smiled at his table mate as he lit the fire under the cauldron and she smiled back coquettishly. His heart fluttered at bit; he tried to keep his concentration, cutting up his liverrot, but his eyes kept jumping over to her pretty hands slicing the smelly nsanti root.

"What's your name?" he finally asked.

"Audrey Edwards."

"That's a pretty name. I'm Erik Erikson." He twitched.

She obviously noticed the twitch and smiled. "I know."


	3. Eagle Post

Stephanie sat down at the long oak table after placing her order for dinner with the gremlin. The gremlin furiously scribbled orders on a long parchment and within a minute the food appeared where the hungry sat. Stephanie's plate of pot roast with a side of steaming green vegetables suddenly appeared along with utensils and she dug in. Cutting the moist meat, she inhaled the rich flavor which made her mouth water and her stomach growl. Marc dropped his belongings beside her and raced to the line. She ate ravenously since she missed both breakfast and lunch and stuffed the food in her mouth so she could finish her letter to send out for evening delivery. Unfortunately, she didn't own an eagle or an owl, so she had to rely on the school's post birds.

When Marc returned, she asked him, "Are you coming to England with my family during the holidays?"

"Of course, Stephanie," he replied excitedly with his thick Mexican accent. "I'm looking forward to meeting Harry Potter."

Stephanie was taken aback. "Meeting Harry Potter? I'm not going to meet Harry Potter. It'll be highly unlikely that I will run into Harry Potter."

"Then why are you going to England then?"

"I'm going to see my cousin, my aunt, and my uncle."

"I thought you said that your cousin knew Harry Potter."

"She does. She's in the same house as him. She's best friends with Harry's best friend's brothers. She plays on the same Quidditch team. But she doesn't live anywhere near him. Usually he stays at Hogwarts for the holiday season."

He grimaced. "I'll see if I can make it. My brother is supposed to take the family skiing in the Adirondacks this winter. Muggles apparently love it."

She faked a smile. His meal of vegetarian empanadas, corn, and refried beans came up piping hot. "Looks good," she said trying to sound friendly to cover up her sourness.

"Not as good as mi mama's," he said with a full mouth, still shoveling food in.

She rolled her eyes.

After eating, she spied a grinning Erik walking into the dining hall. She rose, gathered her belongings, and chased after him. "Erik," she called.

He turned around stunned. "Hey, Steph," he said distracted, "I'm sitting with someone else for dinner. I'm sorry."

"That Hino girl, right?"

"She's got a name."

"What is it then?"

"Audrey."

"I saw you eyeing her all through potions like a love sick puppy. Disgusting."

"Weren't you supposed to tell me something or just waste my time?"

She rolled her eyes. Again. "I have a proposal. I know that you're concerned about our new Defense against the Dark Arts professor. I think that the focus of the Dreamcatcher Cadre should be to identify and investigate dark forces in order to defend ourselves."

"What does that mean?" he growled a bit.

"I think we should find out as much as we can about Professor Dawlings and why he's here. He's a former Death Eater. He even admitted it in class."

"What do you want from me, Stephanie? I'm not your charity case. Why are you so damn interested in my father's death? You're trying to take advantage of me."

She was taken aback. Her heart beat rapidly and her eyes welled with tears. "Not true. You aren't the only person to lose family members during the reign of terror. My mother fled Britain with the clothes on her back. She lost her brother and..." she whispered in his ear, "my older brother was hit by a curse which addled his brain. He's a squib. That's why he never came here."

"I thought that he went to Salem Institute," he said apologetically.

She dashed away, crying.

Erik walked in to the meeting space hoping to apologize to Stephanie about the awkward situation in the dining hall. He kneeled by her as she read one of her school books.

"This isn't a meeting," she whispered. "We're a study group, if anyone asks. We'll talk about things like we're studying for a test."

"That's clever," he said lightly, thankful that she didn't pummel him for knowing her secret. "I think I know someone who took a sip of a potion we made today."

"Hmm, sit over there." She pointed to a chintz chair away from her.

He sat.

"Where's Harris?"

"He isn't coming."

She sighed heavily then returned her attention to her book. "Who were the Heidelberg three?"

His eyes grew big. "I have no clue! That's why I dropped astronomy as a third year."

"You haven't started your History of Magic homework, have you?"

He frantically searched his notebook – quills and parchment flew about the floor. "Obviously not."

"I'm not giving you any of the answers," she said in singsong voice.

"I'm not worried about that class. I'll make a C like every other year. It's not like I can do anything with that class."

"My advisor told me in order to get a good job that you need to make at least Bs in all classes especially the final three years."

"I'm not even thinking about graduation."

She placed her books on the table, leaned back on the itchy, overstuffed couch, and stared Erik in his face. "We'll be seventeen in less than two years, then we'll need to get jobs. If you don't start thinking about the future, then you'll be a bum. I'm planning on being someone important like a diplomat or an international intelligence officer."

Erik indignantly responded, "My stepdad is going to get me a good job in the Congress."

Stephanie smirked. "Really? Your stepdad is a junior representative to the Office of Magical Misuse. He's a glorified secretary. You need a backup."

They chuckled. His hair fell into his face and he tossed it back with a quick jerk of his head.

"I guarantee that if you hang out with me, then you'll make as good of grades as I do," she offered as she fingered her family symbol hanging around her neck "We're in all but two classes together."

"I'm surprised that someone as smart as you is in Muggle Studies," remarked he.

Tears welled in her eyes while her voice broke as she retorted, "Why should I automatically know anything about being a Muggle? Is it because I'm a half-blood? Both my parents were raised in magical families even though one of their parents were a muggle. I still have as much talent and magical blood as the rest of you. I'm not a squib!" She rose, took two steps, and slapped in his face. Erik, stunned, did nothing. She returned to the couch, and buried herself back in the book she was reading before their conversation started.

David, Marc, and Lana came about five minutes later, interrupting the strained silence between Stephanie and him. They sat down around them.

Stephanie handed them four blank pieces of parchment. "Not today. Read tomorrow sometime."

He followed her suspicious eyes to a group of prefects that appeared to be reading spell books.

At least he knew what to do with it.

Erik told his story of Stephanie's slap to Harris as he changed into his pajamas. "We were talking about classes and I said something about Muggle Studies," he began while throwing his dull orange tie in the laundry bag. "Her cheeks turned red and her eyes went teary, then she went off about being a half-blood. Did you know that she was a half-blood?"

"Why would I care about her?" Harris replied. "I think that you like her."

Erik laughed off the accusation. "No, man. I do not."

Harris neatly folded his dark blue robe for tomorrow then placed it on the nightstand. "The way she carries on, you would think that she's a full-blood. I'm British, my cousin goes to Hogwarts. I tell you, bro, she's a narcissistic liar."

"That's harsh. I don't think that she's a liar."

Harris shrugged dismissively. "She's also very moody. I can't tell whether she's going to laugh with me or bash my head in."

David and Marc lumbered in from the bathroom smelling of Old Spice and soap. Erik hushed Harris so that they wouldn't overhear their conversation about Stephanie. They didn't pay any attention to those two anyway, because they never do. Without Stephanie around, David and Marc behaved as if they did not know them. David did his usual nighttime stretches while Marc practiced his Banishing Charm getting ready for class.

"You really good at that Charm," Erik complimented, but Marc only grunted. "I haven't got it down yet."

David glared at Erik. His piggish face glowed a rich crimson color. "Don't keep me up tonight with your childish dreams. I have Longball practice in the morning and I want to win so we can go to Regionals." Longball, an American invention, consisted of two balls, casting spells, and athleticism in order to play. Six players on each team attempt to get one of the balls into the opposing teams nets while the blockers keeps both of the balls out of the nets. The players are allowed to bewitch their opposers with charms. Still Quidditch in America was the favored out of the sports.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Erik replied defensively. Suddenly, he drew his wand.

He drew his as well. "Once again, you're hiding behind a wand," he snorted.

"I'm not hiding." Erik's voice wavered as sweat dotted his face. "I'm doing no more..."

"_Incancerous!" _David screeched.

Erik fell as ropes sprung out at him and bound him tightly. He wiggled frantically on the floor like an earthworm. The rest of the boys tripped over each other rushing out of the bathroom only to laugh at Erik struggling against his binds. Harris stared David down but to his chagrin, he responded with a warning, "Want to be like your friend here? Keep me up again tonight with your girl talk." Harris only growled. David released Erik with the counter charm, climbed into bed, and snarled, "Good night."

Erik and the rest of the boys reluctantly followed David's example and climbed into their beds. Someone extinguished all of the candles with a quick mutter and snores soon came. Erik didn't fall fast asleep, afraid of the inevitable dreams about his father. Instead, he stared at the ceiling for an hour, listening to the remaining roommates file into the room after eleven, then got out of bed about one to stare out the window. The moonlight reflected off the winding river which reminded him of his grandmother's silvery hair. She told him once that magic too had its limitations but wisdom and love did not. His wand was only an instrument, but he didn't need it to survive. In her final days, she cast aside her seven inch oak wand with a cupid's wing feather to live life as she thought of as free.

Erik awoke to see the sun rising over the plantation and the Georgian-style school. The tobacco waved lightly in the fields and the golden wheat glistened in the new light. He raised his head off the window sill where he slept the night away, then he opened the window to allow the breeze to come in. Although it was the end of November, the temperate Virginian climate still felt comfortable. He wanted to enjoy it before the desolate cold of December moved in.

At breakfast, he met up with Stephanie to apologize. Harris had refused to be around her, so he dined with a friend from the Ekundayo house.

"Harris is welcome to eat with us," she said when he walked off.

Erik didn't want to talk about him, so he led the conversation to the meeting from last night. "I'm sorry about saying something about you taking Muggle Studies."

"I overreacted. I'm the one who is sorry. Don't say anything else about it."

He abruptly changed the subject. "I'm not apart of this club, Stephanie. It's a bad idea."

She didn't speak. When the food appeared before her, she ate it ravenously even though Erik knew she wasn't that hungry. Her only solution was to avoid the inevitable.

"I'm dropping out."

She swallowed the remaining crumbs of her biscuit. "You're not."

He furrowed his brow. "I'm not? How are you going to tell me that I'm not?"

"You want revenge as much as I do."

He picked at a scab on his arm. His food appeared steaming hot, but it seemed unappetizing. "You're right, but I don't want to be expelled for starting an illegal club."

"It'll be approved," she replied hopefully.

"Headmaster Carrington and the professors here will never approve. They will think we're crazy to believe that the Dark Lord has risen and his Death Eaters are coming back. I almost think that I'm crazy to believe."

"You believe?"

He thought about it for a minute. He thought about his father murdered on the snowy slopes of the Adirondacks by Paul Byson. His uncaring mother remarried to someone who believed in blood purity. The self-imposed isolation from the rest of his house so that he wouldn't have to share his anger. And Stephanie who could pry into his mind and lift memories lost to his consciousness without much effort. At least he knew her deep secret. "I believe."

"Here's an article from the time that your dad died." On the front of the _Eagle Post _was a picture of his stoic father, in his official auror's uniform and badge, staring unblinkingly at him. Beside that picture, two smaller ones: one of Paul Byson, with a crooked nose and handsome features, and Dirk Dawlings. The captions said: Wanted for questioning in the death of Yancy Erikson, auror.


	4. A nightmare

Erik read and reread the caption before he moved on to the article. His father's large, honest eyes interrogated him and guilt ran through. He couldn't remember much about him beside his close-cropped blond hair and long navy blue wizard robes that he wore to work each morning. Beside he was only three.

_Celebrated auror, Yancy Erikson died last night during a raid in the Adirondacks. His body was found lying near a Muggle ski lodge and turned over to Congressional officials early this morning. The National Magical Enforcement Agency reportedly declared his death a murder by Avada Kedavra Curse upon finding no marks on his body or other evidence of death. The Auror refused to comment on the raid that Mr. Erikson was apart of and his role. Auror spokeswizard Arnold Thippet stated, "We are searching for two wizards to question in connection with the murder: Dirk Dawlings and Paul Byson." But he failed to answer questions about their involvement._

_Byson, a Death Eater, lived hidden from authorities since the disappearance of the Dark Lord. Dirk Dawlings recently returned from England according to a friend and that he settled in New Orleans. However, the friend could not explain why Dawlings was in New York State or even when he went. Dawlings and Byson do not appear to be connected before this murder._

Erik pushed the paper aside.

Stephanie folded the article and placed it in her bag. "I couldn't find any other articles, but I'm going to keep looking. I want to find out as much about Dawlings as possible."

"Why do you care so much?" Erik asked. "My father has been dead for twelve years. The aurors declared that Byson killed him. Dawlings was never indicted." 

"No, but he still was labeled as suspicious," Stephanie affirmed.

"Why do you care?"

"I care because half of my family went into hiding, tortured, or murdered because of the Death Eaters. Just because we were half-bloods. You were hurt by them just as much as I was."

"Give me the paper," he said.

She handed it to him, but said, "I've got to take it back to the library by Friday."

After breakfast, Erik and Stephanie walked together to class chatting like old best friends. He couldn't deny her charm, her two black braids, and smooth dark skin not marked by any acne, pockmarks, or scars. She tossed her head back with glee when she laughed or listened enraptured by his storytelling. He didn't mean to push aside Harris this morning but didn't agree that she was some weird girl desperate for attention. Instead, she was attractive and sensitive, full of delight. He'd known her since their first year when they were sorted into the same house: Phoenix, the house of England and the founder Sir Carrington.

They were laughing about Stephanie's fight with Monica the day before as they walked into the room. A young Black woman greeted the two with a wave of the hand as she handed out pillows to each table. Her name was Professor Leona Whitfield, a British specialist in transfiguration. She recounted her story time and again about her harrowing escape from Lord Voldemort in the closing days of the war. She, a recent graduate of Hogwarts, and a studious Ravenclaw, found herself hiding in a dark tunnel for writing a scathing article about the hypocrisy of Pure Blood mania. She said that she refused to believe that ancestry meant much when it came to magical ability. In addition, she couldn't prove whether she was a pure blood or half blood because her West African ancestors did not keep astute records on magical families. They mixed freely with others.

She fled with the help of a former classmate, a man she only knew as Sirius who stunned the Death Eaters as they were torturing her with the Cruciatus curse. She fled on the back of his motorcycle to her house where it was being sacked by Death Eaters. She decided to leave England with only the clothes on her back, because she knew that article had cost her her life.

"Professor Whitfield!" Stephanie hollered. "Would you like any help?" She chased after the professor.

Harris suddenly appeared at Erik's side. "She's sucking up to her because they're both British."

Erik faced his friend. "Don't say mean-spirited things like that."

"I guess you're best friends with her, huh? She got you in her little trap."

Erik found a seat next to his new favorite friend, Audrey, ignoring Harris. He didn't even know where Harris had settled.

"Class has started," the professor announced. Her light brown skin beamed with enthusiasm equal to that of Stephanie who sat front and center. "We are still working on object to animal transfiguration. Today class will be split into pairs because I only have fifteen pillows. Please turn to page thirty-six in your textbooks if you still have questions about the process or magic behind it. Remember that we will have a test on this material on next class and a demonstration of one of the three transfigurations. This one is the most difficult. Begin!"

Audrey had her book open and to the correct page. She studied the picture of a witch turning the feather pillow into a pheasant. "Mice and frogs are nothing compared to this," she said in a wispy voice.

Erik agreed.

She picked up her wand and waved it like the demonstration. "Up, down, and a loop," she murmured while he copied her wand movements. "Let's try it."

She waved her wand but with a sudden poof, the pillow exploded and feathers flew everywhere.

Professor Whitfield rushed over and said, "Good try, Audrey. Next time not as hard. Erik, why don't you try?" She waved her wand once and the pillow returned to whole.

Erik picked up his wand and clumsily waved it at the pillow. It sprouted one feather, but otherwise remained a pillow.

"A bit more confidence," she replied with a still strong British accent.

Audrey leaned toward Erik, so he suddenly froze, nervous about what she planned to do. Kiss him? "When's the next Dreamcatcher's meeting? I've been waiting."

Erik shook his head. "I don't know if it exists anymore."

"Don't be afraid. The adults are scared of the inevitable. They're trying to live in a fantasy world. Death Eaters are coming out of hiding because the Dark Lord is back."

"I thought you didn't believe that," Erik replied curious.

She laughed aloud. "You need to be careful." With that, they said nothing more of the club.

He thought about that peculiar conversation for the rest of the day as he unsuccessfully tried to turn a pillow into a pheasant, struggled to stay awake in Charms, Ancient Runes, Magical Creatures, and Herbology. His long day left him tired and worn out. Along with that, he had at least several hours of school work to do tonight. He dropped his bag on the couch in the common room along with his cape exhausted.

Several first year girls rushed by him giggling. It didn't take him long to figure out why. Stephanie marched in like a storming bull. Her dark skin was splotched with polka dots. And her eyes were fixed on one person, Monica. Erik's thoughts about Audrey vanished as he leapt off the couch to come to Stephanie's side. He drew his wand in case.

"Looking good as usual, Steph," Monica greeted surly. Her two companions chuckled with her.

Stephanie pointed her wand at Monica's chest. "You did this to me!" she shouted.

They stared each other down. "Prove it."

With that, Stephanie uttered a curse and Monica collapsed on the ground, squirming. One of Monica's friends cried, _"Aguamenti!" _shooting a jet of icy cold water over Erik's body, soaking him to the bone. The spell knocked his wand out of his hand. While he splashed around in the water attempting to find his wand, he saw Stephanie's body fly through the air and over the cushy armchair. Once he found his wand, he fired off another curse, _"Impedimenta!"_, then heard a loud thud.

_"Expelliarmus," _cried an older voice.

Erik's wand jerked out of his hand. He turned only to find Professor Donaldson's stern eyes piercing his own. "I never seen anything like this," she announced. "Furniture is overturned, vases broken, and students cheering while five students destroy each other and their school. Detention apparently isn't enough for Ms. Philpot or Ms. Mickelson. Now, they've dragged their friends into it."

Stephanie rose from underneath a couch, her braids undone.

"You five, please head up to the infirmary, while the rest of the house will clean up this mess...without magic!"

The other students murmured and complained but Erik race out of the room before he saw Harris's eyeing him. He'd already felt guilty about the trouble he got the house in but he didn't want to see Harris accusing him of actually being close with Stephanie. He didn't know why he suddenly defended her. Perhaps it was out of mutual respect for the girl. Perhaps, it was something else.

The healer in the infirmary dried him off with the drying charm and sent him on his way to get punished. Stephanie remained there as the healer, Mr. Wallenstein, dabbed a salve on her skin and made her swallow some potion that she gagged on. He reached Professor Donaldson's office, a dingy windowless space where she kept piles of parchment stacked in the corner, where she coldly welcomed him into. The space warmed up as she lit her candelabra and fire. He dropped into an old wooden stool without any cushion and waited for her decision.

"I'll make this quick," she announced fiercely as her wide hips found its way a leather armchair. "Fighting and dueling are not acceptable in my house. You have broken this rule; therefore, you are forced into detention separating toad parts for my classes."

"How long is my detention, ma'am?" he asked.

"One week should be sufficient for you, Mr. Erikson," she replied, apparently pleased with herself.

Erik walked out of her office and decided to spend a quiet evening away from everyone for a change. He sneaked into his house after the lecture from Professor Donaldson, then grabbed all of his belongings before anyone had the chance to question him about the duel. He stole away to the library and finished his homework by eleven that night. He hoped that everyone would be asleep by the time he returned to his dormitory to fall asleep. Luckily they were. Harris had his covers over his head, but Erik could still hear him moving about in his bed. David snored loudly in the bunk next to his. Erik, pleased that he avoid everyone changed, climbed into bed, and fell asleep immediately.

Erik woke up but he was not in his bed – he wasn't even in his school. Muggles were laughing as they skied down snowy slopes. He blended into his background, because he wore their heavy coats with a water repelling charm and thin wooden boards attached to his feet. His blond hair blew about his head in the icy wind. He bent to pick up the powdery snow that crunched under his feet. "Where am I?" he thought to himself.

A man walked up to him wearing wizard clothing, a long heavy robe, a cape and a lopsided hat covering his matted white blond hair. His teeth sparkled along with the chain necklace around his neck. Muggles stared at this man, then laughed to themselves. "Son, have I got something for you!" he cried, patting him on the back. "I think you're ready to follow in my footsteps."

"Anything, Dad," Erik heard himself say to the wizard. They wore the same optimistic expression on their faces.

"These two men are the remaining Death Eaters here in the U.S. We've got to arrest them both." He held up a photograph of Dirk Dawlings and Paul Byson. "You'll capture Dawlings."

They drew their wands at the same time but marched off in different directions. Erik walked for about a mile until the woods became more dense and there were fewer people. He climbed through undergrowth until he found a cave where a light emitted. Inside the cave, he heard the voices of two men plotting.

He stepped lightly in order to avoid being heard.

"We'll kill Harry Potter and we'll be considered heroes," one voice said. It sounded like the overly confident one of Professor Dawlings. "We'll be rewarded greatly."

"I'll be awarded all the gold from the Egyptian tombs twenty times over!" another voice called, raspy but deep. "He'll have Britain for himself, but we'll divide the U.S."

"I can't wait to become rich!"

The two came out of the cave, but they had one more person in there with them: Harry Potter. He struggled against his binds but his remained defiant – no sign of fear ever entered them. This was the one chance he had to prove himself to his dad by capturing two notorious Death Eaters. Before he had the chance to aim his weapon, a flash of red light came from the other side of the cave. It struck one of them, because Erik heard a thud. He slowly moved closer to the Death Eaters. But another flash of light forced him back. A green rush of light that struck something behind a tree and blew it back about twenty feet.

He knew it was father, so he rushed out of his hiding spot just as the three were disapparating. Harry Potter was gone, the Death Eaters were gone, and now his father. He fell upon his father who stared blankly up at the dusky sky. "Dad!" he sobbed. "Come back!"

Erik sobbed and sobbed for his father to come back, but the snowy ground disappeared and Harris face appeared. "Erik," he whispered. Snores filled the room. "Are you okay?"


	5. Visitors

Erik refused to mention his dream to Harris last night. He'd turned over in his bed, ignoring Harris's concern. His dream disturbed him badly, especially since they were becoming more frequent and more vivid each night. His day went by in a sleepy blur. He couldn't keep his eyes open in history; instead, he drooled over the few notes that he did take. Professor Dawlings loaded a ton of homework on the class, especially spellwork. Erik still insisted on believing that Professor Dawlings meant harm.

He rushed out of his class, only to be stopped by the man he wanted to see the least, Professor Dawlings.

"Excellent spellwork," he commended him. "Your hand movements are precise. I expect a lot from you."

"Thank you, sir," Eric mumbled.

"I received outstanding training from the best wizards of all time," the professor continued. "I never would have accomplished what I have without the basics. Hand movement, eloquence, and precise execution."

Eric cowered. "I must go."

"You have the raw talent to achieve anything. I think it would be a great idea if you came for extra sessions with me. I'm enlisting other upperclassmen to join. Only the best. Be in my office tonight at seven."

"I'm sorry, I can't. I have detention."

"With who?" Professor Dawlings' blue eyes gleamed.

"Professor Donaldson."

"Don't bother about the detention. I'll speak with her. I'm sure that she'll excuse you. A letter will come for you at dinner." He patted him on the back, then left.

Erik sighed.

"Erik," called a familiar voice. He turned around to see Audrey smiling at him. "How are things?" She carried her belongings in a small black beaded bag with the Hino house emblem stitched to the front, a silver lightening bolt against a gray background.

"Going okay, I guess," he answered evasively.

"Have you heard about the visit from the head of the educational department?"

"No," he responded concerned. "Why is he coming?"

She shrugged. "The _Eagle Post _says that parents are worried about negative influences from abroad."

"What negative influences?"

"Obviously the rumor about the You-Know-Who returning to power," she replied.

He pushed his blond hair out of his face. "They shouldn't be meddling in our affairs. Prof. Carrington is running the school just fine."

"They're hiding something, Erik. I know that Stephanie sees it."

"Do you believe that he's back?"

She stared at him unblinkingly. "I don't know who to trust. According to Professor Whitfield, it started like this before: strange disappearances, unusual events, Muggle deaths. It's happening again. In the newspaper, there's been another strange disappearance by a wizard who worked hard to protect Muggles. He was in hiding during the first war. It's just blurbs about these people, but Professor Whitfield knows all the people who disappeared."

"That means that you believe, right?"

"No, it could be just that Death Eaters are coming out of hiding because they believe that he's back."

He shook his head. "No, Audrey. Why would they risk their lives if they weren't sure?" He started to walk down the hall with his head down.

"We've got to keep quiet," she whispered as soon as she caught up with a melancholic Erik. "By the way, are you a full-blood?"

He lifted his head with a violent jerk to glare into her green eyes. "My father's family trace their origins to Leif Erikson, the Viking. My mother's family is Scandinavian nobility. I am a pure blood wizard."

She was taken aback. "I'm sorry if I offended you. I didn't know." Her voice quivered. "I'm not. I'm muggle-born."

His breathing slowed and he felt compassion for her. "I should be the sorry one. People question my blood status sometimes. I'm one of the few pure-blood wizards left and I can trace it to the eighth century on both sides of my family."

She lowered her eyes. "I'll see you later."

Erik sat again with Stephanie at dinner, but this time was to evade Harris, just in case he ask awkward questions about his dream from last night. She busily wrote on parchment in invisible ink as she stuffed a roll in her mouth. He read the newspaper that he snatched from an unsuspecting first year after his conversation with Audrey. A stern, lean face of Brutus Brown stared at him from the moving photograph.

His attention was broken when a tall, ancient wizard's voice reverberated off the rose-colored glass of the dining hall. "May I have everyone's attention please?" he asked in a rasping voice. Erik folded his paper up and shoved it into his bag.

Stephanie leaned over and whispered. "Professor Carrington looks so haggard. I bet he's worried about the visit."

The headmaster did appear to be tired as his lips were thin and his eyes were jaundiced. The professor lifted his spindly fingers to twirl his short, steel gray beard as he always did before giving a speech. His long hair was tied in a ponytail, but was not covered as usual with his dark blue wizard hat. "I am honored to announce that Carrington Academy will host two special guests tomorrow: the head of the Department of Education Mr. Brutus Brown and the President of the Congress Warlock Richard Adler."

Applause rang out through the hall.

"They are both distinguished men and I know that this school will be most hospitable. When my great-grandfather first opened this school in 1690, he always wanted to flaunt his accomplished students to the world because he knew that he succeeded in exceeding international standards in education. I am proud to do the same. These guests will come tomorrow and leave comfortable that our students are learning from the best. They will be pleased to know that Carrington Academy is following their guidelines in order to ensure that the safety of its students are always placed ahead of rumors, gossip, and other unbelievable nonsense. Certain guidelines such as limiting student organizations have been protested but these guidelines are necessary to stop undue influences. I will warn everyone that if anybody says that You-Know-Who has returned or creates any groups in support of Harry Potter will be expelled with no questions. If anyone has spread those rumors or created those groups would be advised to stop all activity now. Everyone tomorrow must wear their best robes with the school's emblem. I hate to keep you from your delicious meal. Have a good evening." The ancient wizard slowly left the dining hall.

Stephanie's mouth dropped.

"I'm scared," Erik whispered.

"They know," she replied. Her eyes began to water.

"What would my mother think if I got expelled. She'd kill me. I'd be in Matoaka Avenue begging for platas outside Flo's Wand Shop."

"Count me in too," she added glumily.

Erik had a revelation. "Maybe we should talk to Professor Carrington about the situation,"

"That's not going to work. Professor Carrington wants to uphold his great-grandfather's traditions and show-off how wonderful his school is." She rolled her eyes.

Erik turned around only to meet eyes with Jack from the Ekundayo house. Jack's cackle could be heard over the sudden uproar from the entire hall. "Damn, Jack. He told about our secret meeting. Why did you invite him?"

She stuffed green beans into her mouth, swallowed them, before answering, "He's the best sixth year in defense class. I assumed he'd teach us a lot. Plus all of the seventh years are busy with practicums."

Erik concentrated on eating his broccoli and cheese soup, as Stephanie felt around in her bag. She unrolled a short piece of parchment then passed it to him. "Useful spells," he read silently. " Stunning charms, disarming charms, banishing, retrieving, and Patronus charm."

"We know only the banishing and retrieving charms," Stephanie said. "I was thinking that we find these spells in the library then try to teach ourselves. When we go to England, my cousin can teach them herself. She's learning them now."

"Alright," he said.

He walked Stephanie to the library after dinner and headed to the far side of the school to study with Professor Dawlings. He almost dreaded seeing him and almost preferred detention with Professor Donaldson. He trudged into the professor's study only to see apple cider and crackers arranged neatly on a serving plate. Six other students were there, but he was the only fifth year. A dark haired boy with pallid skin sneered at him when came in. It was Jack Miller.

"Sit down Mr. Erikson and enjoy the delicious apple cider," Professor Dawlings greeted. "Today will be a little informal chit-chat, but next week, we'll be getting down to work." His blue eyes were sharp and crisp. "Let's start with our youngest member, Mr. Erikson. Please tell us your year, your house, your favorite subject, and a question you'd like to ask me about."

Erik stuttered at first because he knew exactly what question he would like to ask Professor Dawlings, but resisted. Instead he decided on a safe one and then fade into the background. "My name is Erik, and I'm a fifth year student. I'm in the Phoenix house. I guess my favorite subject is defense against the dark arts."

Professor Dawlings chortled. "He's a flatterer!"

Erik continued. "I would like to know how you got to study with the Dark Lord." His heart sank because he meant to ask how got to be good at defense, but his curiosity go the best of him.

"Excellent first question!" the professor announced. "I travelled to England after graduation only to meet with a recent graduate of Hogwarts, a man named Severus. His last name escapes me at times. We practiced spells, hexes, and curses on each other. We became so close that he introduced me to his friends and eventually the Dark Lord himself. The Dark Lord taught me many things, some of which I don't want to elaborate on. I never joined simply because I abhor the idea of blood status. Ability is more important than parentage. Some of the things that I learned that summer helped me later in my career to find hidden Death Eaters around the world. Next student."

Jack spoke next. "My name is Jack Miller and I'm perhaps the best defense student in the sixth year..."

Several students scoffed at Jack's assertion.

"I am a member of the Ekundayo house as my father was before me and my favorite subjects are defense and potions."

Professor Dawlings interjected. "Ekundayos are know for the conjuring skills and for their ability to create protective charms and amulets."

Jack's pretentious smile widened. "My question to you, professor, is about the famous Deveraux Scandal. Have you solved the curse? And how did you become interested in it?"

"Another great question!" he cried. "Does everyone know about the story behind the curse?"

Erik shook his head along with three other students.

The professor leaned over, poised to tell his story.


	6. The Amulet

"This story starts with a young wizard named Jean Deveraux from an aristocratic family in France. He was muggle-born. His parents worried that if this secret came out then they would find their son burning at the stake. So they agreed to send him to Beauxbatons Academy when he turned eleven. After several years, they forced him to leave and eventually sent him to New Orleans to live with his uncle, a rich merchant. There in New Orleans, he met with Akintunde Ekundayo, the founder of the Ekundayo house. Ekundayo was enslaved by Deveraux's uncle. As soon as Deveraux discovered that he too had magical powers, he devised a plan to help him escape.

"Ekundayo was an expert in creating protective amulets and made one for the both of them to keep them safe when they escaped New Orleans. According to legend, he created one that was so powerful that it kept the owner safe from all mortal harm including the killing curse. Deveraux made a wand especially for his new friend using oak and a core of dragon's blood. Eventually they settled in a magical community outside the muggle town of Williamsburg, VA where Ekundayo met Carrington. Deveraux disliked Carrington because he had fallen in love with his wife Greta von Streudson.

"Carrington exiled Deveraux shortly before opening his new school because of certain _indiscretions_. Deveraux had a falling out with Ekundayo because he refused to leave the community, but wanted to teach in the new school. Before Deveraux left, he stole the legendary amulet that protected the owner from all mortal harm. The difference between this amulet and all other amulets is that this one did not need to be worn, only possessed. According to Ekundayo, the amulet cursed anyone who ever possessed it with an additional one hundred years of life."

A brunette witch raised her hand to interrupt Professor Dawlings. She asked, "Why is living for an extra hundred years a curse?"

He replied, "The person in possession of it can never die until one hundred years has passed. They have to live with disease, suffering, and pain."

Erik asked, "What about Ekundayo? Was he cursed?"

"No," he answered. "The curse does not apply if it is given to someone or to the original owner. Only to those who steal it. Deveraux did not know that the amulet would curse him so. Those who stole it after him only thought of immortality."

"Who has it now?" Jack wanted to know.

Dawlings chuckled. "That's what I'm investigating. I have an idea of who has the cursed amulet, the problem is how to destroy it."

"If it's not hurting anyone, then why is it such a big scandal?" Jack asked perplexed.

"There's some speculation that it does more than extend the life of the thief," Dawlings answered. "I'm not sure, but I think the answer lies here in this school and in this town. Ekundayo was a prolific writer. I'm sure he has the answer written somewhere."

"What is it made of?"

Dawlings shrugged. "It's some of the most powerful and least understood magic in the world."

"How did you become interested in it?" a seventh year girl with golden curls inquired.

"After glowing reviews from the Brazilian minister of magic, the International Confederation of Wizards asked me to investigate the curse or as they liked to call it the scandal because of connections to a suspected Death Eater..."

"Aren't you a Death Eater," Erik asked scathingly. The other students gasped disapprovingly, but Professor Dawlings let out a hearty laugh. His cheeks flushed blood red, before he was able to control his laughter and seriously answer the question.

"A Death Eater? Some may think that since I've spent most of my adult life around many of the most famous of them. Investigating them. I have single-handedly captured some that have bested our aurors. Never would I consider joining that despicable organization of low-lives. They do know some complex magic, which in a controlled environment could be useful. Some are very intelligent."

"Did you know Yancy Erikson?"

"One of the finest aurors our country has ever known. Tragic death, though." He shook his head.

"You helped kill him," roared Erik. "You killed my father!"

"You're his son! I see it. The eyes are the same."

"You killed him!"

"Never, Erik," Dawlings retorted. "I wish things happened differently. Your father couldn't kill him. He didn't know that he couldn't kill him. I tried to warn him." He leapt out of his armchair and fled the room.

*

Erik slogged into the common room and plodded into the nearest arm chair. Harris was practicing his banishing charm nearby the fire, and Stephanie was enjoying a lively conversation with Lana. Neither of them noticed Erik as he choked back his anger. Monica walked into the room, smelling of toad juice.

"How did you get out of detention!" she rounded on him. "I spent the last two hours pickling frog brains, but I did not see you! I heard that you received a pardon from your new favorite professor."

"I don't have time to argue," he replied, avoiding an argument with her.

"I hate you and Stephanie," she continued. "You both seem to slip out of trouble all the time. Suck-up!" She glared at him for a second, then whipped her smelly robes about and went up to her dormitory.

Stephanie stuck her middle finger up at her. "I got your suck-up right here!" she called out after she left. Then she returned to her loud conversation.

Harris drifted from the fireplace to the place where Erik sat. He placed his thirteen inch holly wand with thunderbird feather inside his robes. He then loosed his tie before he sat down next to Erik. "How was the meeting with Professor Dawlings?"

"How'd you know about that?" asked Erik surprised.

"I heard about it through Stephanie," he replied hurt. "I got to practice my summoning charms anyway." He disappeared.

Erik attempted to start his essay for History of Magic, but he was so distraught that he threw his belongings in his bag, and went up to his dormitory to shower.

*

Once again, Erik woke up sweating from a nightmare. The same one from the night before. This time, however, he did not leap out of his bed out of fear, but out of anger. Why wasn't his father able to kill Paul Byson? His father was an excellent duelist, taught by the best in the world. Dawlings, who wanted to appear as a hero in class, still was the same pathetic character from his previous dreams. He was complacent in the death of an auror. He still deserved whatever punishment came along. He pulled his cotton cape out of his trunk and wrapped it firmly around his body. Then he sneaked out of his house.

The corridor leading to the phoenix house was dark, lit only by a few candles. Busts of famous wizards and witches lined the red brick wall. They sneered at him as he passed by. The largest one guarded the door asleep.

"Let me pass," he said sleepily, then yawned.

The marble bust's eyes lit up and said, "It's too late, young wizard." Dark lines etched around the mouth gave it an older appearance, although the likeness was of a wizard only of forty. Its heavy eyebrows and dark, brooding eyes made it stern looking and forbidding.

"Let me pass," Erik repeated.

The bust warned, "Wandering the school will lead to harsh punishment. You will be safe inside your house."

"Let me pass," Erik repeated once again.

The bust jumped to the side against the wall where the other busts sat, while Erik made his way to the door, and whispered, "_Alohomora._" The door unlocked, and Erik crept out of the corridor into the second floor atrium. The moonlight illuminated the glittering floor that sparkled with the constellation of Cassiopeia. He raced across the floor and down the stone stairwell until he reached the first floor landing. From there, he carefully tiptoed down the hall and once again whispered _Alohomora _ in order to enter the library.

He uncovered his wand. "_Lumos_," he said silently. He made his past the wooden tables and book shelves until he reached his destination, a cabinet filled with old newspapers from dozens of news outlets from around the globe. He pulled the cabinet opened, then tapped his wand on an old piece of parchment. The parchment revealed the list of available newspapers. He picked up the accompanying quill and underlined the _Eagle Post_, then he wrote three names: Dirk Dawlings, Paul Byson, and Yancy Erikson. A shelf pushed itself out with four newspapers from twelve years ago. Erik picked them up and headed to the nearest table.

Through the night, he poured through all of them, taking detail notes on the author, the people involved, the investigation, anything he felt that would be important. Before he left at the break of dawn, he carefully erased his presence, making sure that no one could follow his trail.

*

"Are you still coming to London with my family and me?" Stephanie asked Erik in a spare moment before the start of History of Magic.

"I just got an eagle today from my mother," Erik responded. He rubbed his heavy, dark eyes that still were sleepily. "She said that I could go for the entire break. I'm getting 100 oros for the trip."

"You don't seem very enthusiastic," she said concerned.

"My mom, her husband, and my sisters are going to the Rocky Mountains," he answered. He shook his blond head. "I don't really care."

"It'll be a lot of fun in England. Lana, Marc, and David are all coming too."

Professor Smyth walked into the classroom and announced, "I am proud to welcome the head of the department of education, Mr. Brutus Brown and President of the Congress Warlock Richard Adler." Two men with long dark robes and tall, pointed hats sitting askew on their heads marched into the classroom, followed by a younger wizard. They stopped at the front of the class, bowed to Professor Smyth, then faced the class.

"Young wizards and witches," began Mr. Adler, a small wizard with slitted dark eyes, and a thin mouth, "we thank you and your professors for your gracious hospitality. We are proud to note that this school is following the new rules set down by the department of education. Mr. Hardy, are you getting this down?" He glared at the young wizard who accompanied them. The kid nodded his head frantically, and scribbled away on his parchment. "I understand that there's some contention among the students here and at other schools, but this is a matter of national security. We simply cannot entertain unfounded lies that have plagued our sister country. Therefore, the Magical Congress in conjunction with the department of education have taken extreme measures in order to ensure the safety of each of its magical constituents. Mr. Brown?"

Mr. Brown scowled at the class, before he spoke. "Good morning, class," he croaked. "Carrington Academy offers the finest education to young wizards and witches in the United States. This school produces more top scores than Salem Institute and San Pedro School of Magic. We have far more Carrington graduates in the top positions of government than the other two American schools combined. This school is very distinguished. In order to maintain such high standards, we must take certain threats seriously. If we weed the garden often, then the remaining plants will grow stronger and healthier. I intend to challenge students to achieve excellency in order to compete with our international counterparts."

Stephanie's arm shot up.

"Young lady, do you have a question?" Mr. Brown asked gruffly.

"Yes, sir," she said as she stood with perfect posture. "Shouldn't students challenge their adult professors in order to learn more and to be independent thinkers? Student organizations allow us to work together so that we will be prepared for adulthood and asking questions about controversial topics allow..."

"What is your name?" Mr. Adler cut her off.

"My name is Stephanie Philpot," she responded.

"Are you a pure-blood witch?"

She stammered, "I'm a half-blood."

Mr. Adler and Mr. Brown snickered. "Sit down, please," Mr. Adler commanded. "All pure-bloods, please stand."

Erik hesitated, because of Stephanie's tears, that gathered on the parchment in front of her, but he eventually stood.

"These are the future leaders of the magical community," Mr. Adler said. "But as students, you must fall in line or risk exile. Strict discipline must be followed if a student wishes to learn. Ms. Philpot, I suggest you learn this principle quickly." He acknowledged the professor. "Thank you, Professor Smyth. We have enjoyed your class very much."

The two gentlemen bowed and exited the classroom.


	7. Great Bang

Erik sat at the far end of the Phoenix house's table, far away from the next student. He ate his tuna casserole with a book up to his face, hoping that no one would see him. The closing weeks of the semester were closing in and end of semester exams were looming. Next week, he'd be on a magic carpet with Stephanie's family to Europe. He hadn't seen much of her outside of class since Warlock Adler and Mr. Brown's visit in November. She remained quiet and very secretive. But so had he. He never told her or Harris of the nightmares or the night time visits to the library.

An owl startled him. There was a rolled up piece of parchment tied to his foot. Erik took it and read the brief note:

_Students, we shall have another meeting. 8pm on the Longball field. Dress warmly. _

_Professor Dirk Dawlings_

This meeting would be the second one. Erik wondered why outside on the Longball.

He ate quickly, then raced upstairs to rummage through his trunk to find his dragon hide gloves, wool scarf, his leather cloak, and thick cotton cape. He put the extra layers on, then pulled the hood

over his head. Harris watched him, but never asked a question about where he planned to go. Erik never minded as he raced out of the dormitory. Stephanie did stop him.

"Where are you going?" she interrogated him.

His blond bushy eyebrows rose. "Are you my mother?" he asked indignantly.

"Sorry," she said. "Don't forget that we have astronomy tonight. I don't want you to be late."

"You're not worry about that. You really like to know where I'm going."

She nodded.

"One of Professor Dawling's meetings."

"I'm just as talented as you are. Why am I not invited? I even have better grades than you!"

"Jealous much?" he snickered, enjoying the conversation.

She grumbled and walked away.

**

He opened the heavy oak doors on his way outside. The grounds were icy and the bitter wind howled, biting his bare face. The nearby village's smoke could be seen over the tops of the evergreen forest. He envied the warmth of the cottage as he raced to the longball field in the extreme northwest corner of the school. The goal posts exactly one hundred yards apart gleamed orange against the dead, brown grass. The white circle in the middle of playing field, where Professor Dawlings and the rest of the group waited, was faded and barely visible. There were several dozen lighted torches encircling the group with a radius of about twenty yards.

"Good to see you," Professor Dawlings greeted. "As I was telling the rest of the group, we are going to work on spells that you wouldn't normally learn in class. These spells are more specialized to more illustrious careers like an auror or a codebreaker. They require a great deal of concentration and skill. Wands out."

The students took out their wands.

"Up, down, and a clockwise circle," he said. "Follow me." He made the movements with a slight flick of the wrist. Erik copied it. "Excellent." He moved eight cabinets to the far side of the field in front of each student and himself. "Now, I will show you a most exciting spell that I'm sure you will enjoy, especially the gentlemen. You will blow up those cabinets with this simple incantation. _Confringo. _Concentrate on the object at hand and say the incantation clearly."

The students watched him as he waved the wand and shouted the incantation. A loud boom followed as the cabinet blew up, throwing splintered wood everywhere. Jack applauded loudly and cried, "Awesome!"

The professor bowed graciously. "Thank you, students. Now, you try."

Erik hesitated as a seventh year blew up his cabinet on the first try. Even Jack accomplished the task on his second try.

"Mr. Erikson, give it a try," the professor encouraged.

"I bet he won't be able to do it at all," Jack teased.

Erik followed the hand movements exactly as the professor had, then said the incantation clearly, imagining blowing up Jack's smug face rather than the cabinet. The cabinet blew apart.

"Excellent!" Professor Dawlings exclaimed. He clapped him on the back.

The rest of the session lasted another hour with the students casting invisibility spells on each other and uncovering each other under those spells. Erik beamed with pride at the end of the session because he had performed as well as the sixth and seventh year students. Each student except Jack congratulated him. He began to cross the field to return to the castle, when Professor Dawlings called him back. He reluctantly returned, not only because the temperature continued to plummet, but also since he knew he'd enter into an awkward conversation with him about his father.

"I know that at the last meeting I did not satisfy your desire to know about your father's death," the professor began. "I hesitated holding another meeting for this reason. I am willing to answer any question about my involvement."

"What happened?" Erik uttered.

"My investigation of the Deveraux scandal led to the Adirondacks. I was suspicious for good reason that Byson had Ekundayo's amulet. Byson eluded me for six months, so when I heard about a secret auror mission, I dropped everything and went." A loud eruption from the school interrupted his story. "Come on," he called concerned.

Erik followed after his teacher across the grounds and back into the school. They pushed through a thin crowd of older students gathered in a circle. Jack Miller stood in the middle, rooted to that spot with a wand in his hand. Less than six feet in front of him was a piece of unrecognizable destroyed furniture. Professor Carrington suddenly came through the crowd with his nightshirt and a cape hastily placed around his shoulders. "Mr. Miller, explain!" his voice boomed in the entrance hall.

"I was just showing my friends something I just learned," he stammered.

The headmaster flicked his wand and the destroyed furniture returned to its previous form. "GO!" he yelled, and the hall emptied.

Erik stayed only to continue hearing the Professor Dawlings's story. The headmaster did not mention his presence. He warned Professor Dawlings, "I have a lot to worry about without your club members showing off their new spells. I warned you that this club must be a secret. The department of education is itching to make me a figurehead in my own father's school. I do not want to give them an excuse. It's bad enough that your club is exclusive for only pure-bloods. Make sure that this incident doesn't ever happen again or you'll be out of a job!" He turned on his heels and headed back to his private bedroom.

Professor Dawlings only sighed after the threat. "Erik, I must head to bed now. I am sleepy. I will continue my story soon. Please do not judge me until you hear it. I admired your father much. Remember that." With that, the professor climbed the stone stairs off to the left and up to the teacher's dormitories.

Erik headed to his house to gather his belongings for astronomy.

**

Erik sauntered up to the stone stairs into the astronomy tower at the far back of the castle with Harris. They entered the top of the tower, took their seats at the window, and set up their telescopes with the rest of their house and the von Streudsen house. Harris angrily through the rest of his bags on the ground, making a huge thud. Erik watched him as he fumbled with his parchment, then spill his ink. Harris growled, then ran his fingers through his brown matted hair.

Erik began to copy the professor's notes onto his parchment without asking Harris about his temperament. He was concerned for him, but didn't want to invite any backlash. Harris didn't even start taking notes on the assignment before the professor erased the board.

"Dammit," he snarled.

Erik slid his notes to Harris's table. Harris gratefully nodded his head, and began to copy. Erik finished his star chart and handed it within twenty minutes. He helped his friend finish the assignment.

"Make sure that you show the brightness of star," Erik guided. "This star isn't as bright as the other." He pointed with his finger to show the mistake.

"Thanks," he said. "I'm pissed at you."

"Why are you mad?" Erik asked shocked.

"You've been really secretive about your meetings with Professor Dawlings. I thought he was your enemy, but you're buddy buddy with him now. Stephanie is your new best friend. You tell her everything. It's not a big deal. I think it's strange. For a couple of weeks, you've been really quiet. Are you pissed at me?"

"I'm not pissed at you, Harris," Erik replied. "I've really haven't talked to Stephanie about much either."

Harris peered into his telescope.

"Professor Dawlings has a lot of interesting stories," Erik began. "He's been researching the Deveraux scandal for over a decade. He thought that Byson was involved and that's why he was with him."

"He told you that?"

"He hasn't finished the story."

"_You _believe that?"

Erik cleared his throat. "He's not a death eater."

Harris shrugged, then wrote something on his chart.

The professor clapped his hands to grab the classes' attention. He was a short, olive-skinned man, with a small gut and dark hair streaked with gray. He wore his favorite silk cerulean robe that glittered in the low candlelight of the tower. It smelled faintly of orange tobacco that he smoked occasionally in class from his golden hookah. "I hope that you've been able to finish your star charts for the day. We will not have an end of semester exam."

The class erupted into cheers.

"Thank you, Professor Nasri!" praised David.

"I have a delightful assignment for you instead," Professor Nasri announced. "Find out the origin of your house's constellation and write a full paper on the significance of that constellation to the house's founder. Include a completed star chart."

Groans sounded through the tower.

"Von Streudsens," the professor called, "what is your house's constellation?"

A brown-haired boy raised his hand.

"Constantine?"

Constantine stood and answered, "Ursa Major."

"Excellent! Phoenixes?"

Stephanie's hand shot up.

"Stephanie, please."

She responded, "Cassiopeia."

"Excellent. Now, students, you have a leg up. Good luck with your assignments. By the way, for extra credit, if the stars have more than one name, please note it with the language it's from."

The tower rumbled with movement as students put away their telescopes, parchment, and ink.

"This assignment is going to be complex," Erik said.

"I know," replied Harris. "Let's work on it tomorrow in the library."

Erik nodded and they left the tower.

**

Students gathered around the front wall, pushing and pulling each other away. Erik, Harris, and Stephanie pushed their way into the center of the muttering crowd to find out what the commotion was. A parchment, signed and sealed by a government official, hung on the stone wall. It said:

_All_ s_tudents may be questioned without consent from parent or guardian by the department of education or the office of the President of the Congress. _

Stephanie's mouth froze and her hands shook. Harris's face turned white. Erik, however, kept his breathing steady, but sweat still beaded at his temples. "They don't know anything," Erik whispered to them.

Harris squeezed Stephanie's hands and she became aware of her surroundings. "They don't know anything," she repeated. "They don't know."

The trio made their way to breakfast, before a long day ahead of them in the library, preparing for exams and writing their astronomy papers. Erik waited until the dining hall filled with enough laughter and chatter before he dared ask the question that was on his mind. "Are you okay with Stephanie now?" he said to Harris.

Stephanie glinted her eyes, but the boys ignored her.

"I'm not saying that I agree with her about the rise of the Dark Lord," Harris replied, "and her support of Harry Potter, but I do agree something fishy is going on. Why is the government suddenly so involved with this school. They've never visited before. Professor Carrington always had control. Are they pushing him out?"

"They can't push him out," Stephanie answered. "Only a descendent of Carrington can run the school. There's some spell that protects his position."

Erik said, "The other night, the headmaster said something about the Congress making him a figurehead. He got angry with Professor Dawlings about his club being exclusive for pure-bloods."

"What!" she responded angrily. "I can't join because I'm not a pure-blood. That's bullshit!"

"Maybe that's why Professor Dawlings's here," Harris fetched.

Erik shook his head in disagreement. "I think Professor Dawling is here to find out more about the Deveraux curse."

"What's that?" Harris asked.

Erik explained everything he knew about from Professor Dawlings.

"The answer might be in this school," Stephanie offered. "Ekundayo left his entire library including all of the books he wrote."

"If he intended to keep his amulet safe, then he wouldn't have written it down somewhere," Harris said dismissively.

"Maybe Professor Whitfield knows about it. She knows a lot of West African magic. She even studied in Timbuktu."

Harris rolled his eyes.

Stephanie huffed. "Do you have any brilliant ideas?"

"You assume that the answer is going to jump out at you," retorted Harris.

Erik cut between them, before the fragile association would fall apart. "Stephanie's idea isn't a bad one. It's a start."

She smiled smugly.

"That'll be your job," he continued. "Find out as much as you can without raising the professor's suspicions. Harris, we'll search the library about the amulet and the history of Ekundayo."

They ate the rest of the breakfast and planned their study schedule.


End file.
